


The Demon in White

by WaywardSpark



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is smitten, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Other, Pre-Slash, so is Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19744450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSpark/pseuds/WaywardSpark
Summary: Ode to Crowley in that white waiter outfit in episode 1





	The Demon in White

“I dunno about this, angel,” Crowley gripes, narrowly watching his reflection in the mirror, as he tugs at the black tie choking his neck. “Is this really worth it?”

“Saving the world from the wrath of the antichrist?” Aziraphale scoffs from the other side of the room, where he is drawing on a curly ‘magician’s’ moustache with an eyeliner pencil onto his upper lip. “What could it possibly not be worth?”

“Wearing white,” Crowley admits, with only the slightest hint of embarrassment in the hesitation of his voice, at least as much embarrassment as an over-confident demon with little concern over his public image can feel.

“Honestly. Your vanity will be the... discorporation of you.”

“Shut up. I know it doesn’t seem important to you. You haven’t made an effort since the 1790’s.” He ignores Aziraphale’s offended gasp. “But I happen to like the way I normally dress. This outfit just isn’t... me.”

Aziraphale exhales softly through his nose, walking over to Crowley. He looks at Crowley’s reflection over his left shoulder. “I know it’s not you. Because you’re not you. Today, you’re Anthony Crowley, a human waiter who was hired to serve spoilt little eleven year olds delicious food that they frankly will _not_ appreciate properly, for a surprisingly pitiful wage considering how many yachts Warlock’s father has bought in the past year.” 

”Can’t I be Anthony Crowley, the security guard who wears black?” He whines.

“You’ve already been hired, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale replies softly. “But it’s only for a short while. Hardly the end of the -“ Crowley raises an eyebrow at Aziraphale through the mirror, a smirk growing on his lips. Aziraphale turns flustered. “Oh, you know what I mean. It’s a minor sacrifice in the long run.” He pauses, appearing to contemplate Crowley’s outfit, then adds casually, “if it helps, you do look rather dashing.”

Crowley feels heat rise from his neck to his face. Stupid, deceptive, disloyal vessel. “... Oh?”

“Yes. You look rather good in white, if I do say so myself.”

He turns to look at Aziraphale, who smiles back. Crowley wonders if he’s aware at all of the impact such a small comment could have, of the love that is obviously seeping out of his every pore. On the one hand, he is an angel, and an intelligent one at that. On the other hand, his long history of being captured by maniacs across time over petty wants like crepes would demonstrate otherwise, and has never shown a single sign of being aware of Crowley’s feelings. Not once in six millennia. 

He clears his throat, takes his dark glasses from his pocket and puts them on, shielding his eyes from Aziraphale’s bright and oblivious grin. “Well, in that case, lead on, angel. For the world’s sake, of course.”

“Of course. For the world.”


End file.
